


no one chooses their time (but maybe time had something to say about that)

by Purpleskiesofdragons



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Do They Really Die, Fix-It of Sorts, Sadness, Sort Of, bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-13 19:10:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20587601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purpleskiesofdragons/pseuds/Purpleskiesofdragons
Summary: An Endgame fix-it, of sorts. Based off a Tumblr prompt, again.





	no one chooses their time (but maybe time had something to say about that)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AkozuHeiwa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkozuHeiwa/gifts).

_ “Let me go.” _

_ “No.” _

_ “It’s okay.” _

When Natasha feels her arm muscles groan in pain and her sleeve begin to slip free from Clint’s grasp, she knows that _this_, this moment on a planet reeking of loss and grief, is the moment that her journey ends. 

She’s been an ever-changing enigma to others, even herself, for so long. 

She’s been a ballerina, made of porcelain, with, fire dancing in a halo around her head as she learned to carve a man’s heart out. 

She’s been a puppet to the Red Room, set on a path to sink her tiny little pincers into her playthings’ necks. 

She’s been a broken girl, as she learned that she was not a marionette anymore, and slowly trained herself to realize that maybe the world could fit a small, spider-sized hole among their ranks, for her, and would not notice the scarlet ledger hidden behind her back. 

She’s been an Avenger, fighting alongside those who’d slowly wormed their way into her heart, which she never thought could be capable of anything past a being frozen shell. 

And now, Natasha supposed, she would be the key to stirring the settled dust again, and perhaps even saving the world (_just as she’s always tried to, but quietly spilling a red rain into the ledger as she takes more lives_). 

There’s so much red. 

(_ But maybe, if she lets go just this once, it will fall with her. It’s a small price to pay _.)

Natasha looks up once more into the eyes of the stricken archer (_ She never thought her heart would ache so much _). She can see the fear, the despair, the hopelessness in his eyes. They have no choice. 

_ He cannot save her. _

She lets go. 

\----

_Is this what it feels like to die? _

\----

She’s surrounded by a gentle curtain of black. It’s waving softly, as if inviting her. She hesitates for a moment-- is this it? Does she want to go forward? 

  
_Of course she does. Millions of lives are balanced in her little spider claws now. _

She brushes aside the curtain. 

\-----

A torrent of light and sound greets her. Her eyes are still closed. There’s… screaming. Crying. Is this what heaven is like? (_ Or have they closed their gates, pushed her, let her fall down, down down…? _)

“And I… am Iron Man.”  


Her eyes fly open at the familiar voice, only to be greeted by _ Tony _, his image projected across a massive screen as he lifts a red gauntlet with six brightly glowing stones nestled against the knuckles. 

He snaps. 

\----

Natasha watches the rest of the projection in silence. She saw the glowing golden stone in the gauntlet, so Clint must have succeeded. _They_ succeeded. 

(_ They won without her, but where is she? _)

\----

A week later, in an apartment that she’s sharing with some old man (Stan, he calls himself. Just Stan), she sees the email among his computer feed. 

BLACK WIDOW, it reads, with a picture of _her_. Breathlessly, her hands move to the ad, clicking on it as she begins to read the message that follows. 

It’s a long, detailed message about the casting for the Black Widow _ movie _. They’re looking for an actress to fill the part, and the casting director has suggested a few ideas, but so far, they haven’t found anyone. 

_ How _ … Once again, the question resurfaces in her mind. _ Where is she? _Somehow, she’s landed herself in a reality outside of her own, watching her former life play on in theater, without her. 

Her ears pick up footfalls on the carpet behind her, and she turns, guiltity, to come face-to-face with Stan. She expects him to be suspicious, at least a _little_ bit, that she’s been snooping on his laptop, but instead, he has a small twinkle in his eyes as they flick between the screen and her. 

“Maybe you should try out,” he suggests. “It’s not everyday that Marvel meets someone like you, Natasha.” And with a small wink, he’s gone again, and Natasha is left wondering about the curious _all-knowing _spark in his gaze. 

\---

Two weeks later, Natasha finds herself shifting nervously from foot to foot inside a small room with about thirteen other people that look like spitting images of her. They pass her small smiles, and she tries to return them, although her success is questionable. 

“Natasha, you’re next,” calls someone from the next room. Natasha receives a few surprised glances as she stands up, but moves forward regardless and goes into the casting room. 

\---

Stan had recommended to her, before she left, “Just be yourself,” with yet another of his signature winks. Now, sitting in front of a panel of unfamiliar people, she’s oddly nervous, more nervous than she’s ever been before a mission. 

One of the directors hands her a piece of paper with a few lines on it. 

“There’s basic blocking here, along with a few simple fight moves. Can you pull these off?” he asks. Natasha nods and takes the script, scanning it quickly. With a small shock, she realizes that it’s a small rendition of the fight at the United Nations building. _ She remembers this. _

Natasha, relying on her own muscle memory, executes the scene flawlessly, the endless hours of training guiding her limbs. When she’s finished, she notices the wide-eyed expressions of the directors as they converse rapidly among themselves, jotting down several notes on clipboards. Awkwardly, she shifts from foot to foot; the directors finally notice her after a few moments, and gesture for her to leave.

\----

When she gets back to her and Stan’s apartment, he’s waiting for her on the couch, a small smile playing about his lips. Natasha arches an inquiring eyebrow at him; he, as always, says nothing, and stands. He passes her on the way to the door, and as he does so, he dips his head slightly.

“Welcome back, Black Widow. We’ve missed you.” 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> :D
> 
> based off the prompt: “when fictional characters die, they become real.”
> 
> yes, i am aware that scarlet johansson exists. this is just an AU, and I decided on Black Widow because she doesn’t have a solo movie released yet, so I took the opportunity. *shrugs* 
> 
> comment and kudo please?


End file.
